


Tunnel Vision

by cinereous



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, Glove Kink, Invisible Partner, M/M, PWP, Self-cest, Train Sex, phantom sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-12 09:23:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18443666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinereous/pseuds/cinereous
Summary: Akira just wanted to read his new book on the train.





	Tunnel Vision

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxjar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxjar/gifts).



    Tidying the Heart was a strangely compelling read. The book was new and did not fold well in his hands, the paper thick and satisfyingly crisp under his fingers each time he had to turn a page to read on. Akira ate up paragraph after paragraph about tidying and organization while the line for the train grew steadily at his back.  
  
    He didn't normally read unless he managed to secure a seat on the train. It was simply easier to focus. Plus, reading while moving through a crowd was just bad form. The problem was that Akira couldn’t seem to put this book down. His mind was alive with ideas. He wanted to go back to his attic that Sojiro had so gracefully offered him for his university move. He still didn't know why half of the items were up there. He may be able to resituate most of it in the far dark corner, or even get Sojiro to let him pawn items.  
  
    The train arrived amid his mind’s swirl of possibilities, the doors hissing open. The line began to move, and Akira was forced to follow the rest of the men and women inside. He was not lucky enough for a seat, but he did manage to get a pole, which was rare enough on its own. Akira hated getting stuck between people with nothing to hold on to, or worse, managing to somehow get right underneath a salary man's smelly underarm.  
  
    Today was lucky. He clung to the pole and pulled out his book, already back to reading before the doors had even closed. It was a slower day, which suited Akira just fine. It meant the car was less full and gave a little bit of breathing space, unlike the morning rush where he was often squeezed so tightly that he was almost tempted to try hanging from the bars instead.  
  
    He read about folding techniques for clothes, but while his eyes trailed the words, it seemed like they were shifting. He squinted a bit, pushing his fake glasses off the bridge of his nose and up into his hair before looking again. They seemed fine.  He shrugged and went back to reading the lines, but after another second they seemed to smudge and shift in a way they only did when his eyes were tired or out of focus.  
  
    Suddenly, the words were entirely different. There could be no mistake. The information about dividers in your drawers bled into...a very different tone and subject matter.  
  
    _The taste of leather on his tongue was sharp and masculine. He could not resist dragging his teeth along the gloved fingers. It was with great delight that he could feel the man's other hand sliding down his chest to caress the smooth planes of his abdomen. They stopped at the top of his jeans, teasing and spidering along that stretch of sensitive skin before finally slipping down to cup and squeeze around the bulge waiting for him there._  
  
    Akira almost dropped the book in his surprise. He jolted and rushed to look around as if some pervert might have read over his shoulder. When he looked back down at the book it was unchanged, waxing on about drawer tidiness in the same cheerful tone. The smutty words were gone, giving him a squirming feeling of self doubt. Had he hallucinated them?  
  
    He probably _had_ hallucinated them.  
  
    Akira rubbed at the back of his neck in embarrassment, and his face felt hot with his blush. It was difficult to go back to reading, but he did so stubbornly, trying his best to fall back into his enjoyment. His hand slid up high on the pole, gripping it there in a way that made his back stretch satisfying and cat-like.  
  
  _To avoid a cluttered drawer, dividers keep things organized and separated. Invest in some plastic dividers or go the DIY direction and make some out of a cardboard box! Simply use a pair of scissors and the press of his hand felt unnaturally hot even through the gloves. The sensation of his tongue licking flames against his ear was enough to make his knees buckle with pleasure._  
  
    This time Akira really did drop the book, watching it smack down onto the dirty floor while his heart and mind raced. If he was hallucinating...it was intense and out of the blue. And why about sex?  
  
    He went to agitatedly twist a lock of his hair. He tended to perform this gesture only when he was deep in thought or concerned. He definitely felt that way now, but as he tried to move, his hand didn't obey.  
  
    Akira looked up in horror at his hand still held high up on the pole. Experimentally, he tugged it, finding it stuck as if by phantom glue. Quiet and panicked terror filled him to the brim almost instantly, and Akira jerked his gaze around the compartment looking for any sign of a demon. All that met his gaze were disinterested salary men and office ladies in their post-work stupor. No one even looked at him twice.  
  
    With a final angry yank, Akira gave up tugging. His heart was thundering in his ears while he reached for his phone with his free hand. In his mind, he hoped to pull up his messaging app to track down some help from his friends.  
  
    That was his hope, but mid-motion towards his pocket, it felt like warmth was pooling along the back of his hand. He looked up and saw nothing but his own hand gripping the pole. His mind rushed to the passage in the book he had just read, talking all about warmth through gloves. If he concentrated...it felt like leather on his skin.  
  
    There was a flutter that caught Akira's eyes, compelling his gaze to  slide down to the floor where his book was abandoned. It was open down the center now, a flash of something red tucked inside like a bookmark -- a joker card from a deck of playing cards.  
  
    Something like relief and an even thicker dose of bewilderment slammed into him as Akira suddenly realized who was causing such strange things. It was _Joker_.  
  
    But why was he here? _How_ was he here?  
  
    Amid his thoughts, he could feel movement. Despite the press of bodies here in the train, it was like a sultry breeze passed along his back. Akira could swear he felt leathery fingertips along the base of his neck that sent shivers raining down his spine.  
  
    He knew for sure when that same sensation _gripped_ his chin. It startled him so badly he made a noise of surprise, but went silent to watch in awe. The window in front of him began to slowly fog over with invisible breath. It spread around like frost on glass until the patch was roughly the size of his own splayed hand.  
  
    It was impressive and terrifying enough, but he couldn't help the way his heart thumped low in his gut when an invisible finger dragged through the condensation. It was a delicate movement, nothing more than two unhurried swipes to create the shape of a heart.  
  
    Wh-what?  
  
    Akira stared at the heart with a hot and cold sensation in his body. He still could not move his hand. He had no idea what Joker was playing at or how he was able to be playing with him at all. About to begin whispering pleas to be let go, that same sensation of leather dragged across his face to silence him.  
  
    Even though he couldn't see it, Akira could imagine it; a red gloved hand now covering his mouth. Even in his window reflection around the fog, he could see there was nothing on his face, and his eyes were wide with shock.  
  
    Despite that, he could smell the leather heavy in his nose, along with a smoldering, almost magical scent like incense that he always associated with the plumed black smoke that engulfed him when he was Joker in a palace.  
  
    He felt reckless, and Akira slowly licked his lips. The motion was subtle enough it didn't look strange to anyone on the train around him, but he definitely could feel his tongue hit an unseen barrier with all the texture of his gloves. He knew it well from all the times he had tugged them tighter with his teeth in the Metaverse.  
  
    The taste was like the hit of a drug. Akira found himself suddenly hungry for things he could not name as a second invisible hand landed against his sternum like a butterfly. He breathed harder just to feel the weight of it, even though he could not see it. It dragged slow and heavy and warm down his shirt. So real did it feel that Akira was almost offended that the material did not bunch or press down under the touch like it should have.  
  
    When ghostly fingertips touched his belt, Akira's knees buckled ominously. He suddenly remembered just where he was. The reminder had Akira's eyes slamming up to look around the car in panic. Like before, no soul was looking in his direction. It was a huge relief. He slumped in gratefulness, but Joker's palm suddenly clamping down over the front of his pants sent Akira's nerves skyrocketing right back up.  
  
    His doppelganger's touch was not gentle. It was confidence personified. The way his fingers managed to slide and coil around his covered erection despite the material in the way reminded Akira of a snake. What had begun as freaked out, heart pounding excitement now flushed over to pure arousal. He felt his cock go heavy and aching in what felt like a single second.  
  
    His breath caught in his throat, sticky and too aware of all the passengers around him. A phantom body pressed up against his back, moving Akira to jerk and look over his shoulder to see what person was getting into his personal space. The air was empty behind him, but that could not explain the hot breath he felt melting against his ear, or the fingers squeezing tighter around him.  
  
    The invisible body pushed, splaying Akira helplessly against the pole, pressing his erection against the unforgiving metal while he tried desperately to hide his gasp.  
  
    In his mind, he could hear the sound of his belt being undone and his zipper pulled down. He could even feel the chilly air against his cock signaling Joker yanking them down. What truly made him gasp, however, was the sensation of gloved fingers wrapping around his bare flesh.  
  
    His toes curled in his shoes, and Akira helplessly looked down. He expected to see himself bared to the world, but his clothes were all perfectly in place. The only signs of activity were his flushed cheeks, labored breaths, and the arousal that was concealed, yet so obvious if anyone glanced down.  
  
    Akira wanted to ask questions. He wanted to know how this was all happening in his head, but he still couldn't move his hand from the pole! He wanted to know if the fog and the heart were real, or if his mind had planted those too. It felt like reality was slipping between his fingers like water.  
  
    Cool air rushed against his backside, letting Akira know Joker had pulled his pants down even further. It was still unnerving to look down and see his clothes perfectly in place, even when he could _feel_ them bunched around his thighs. Fingers that were not his own caressed along his perineum, forcing his legs further apart and making Akira feel indecent as he clutched at the pole so hard his knuckles went white.  
  
    Something blunt, wet, and hot pressed between his thighs next. Akira did not have to be a genius or be able to see to know what it was. It dragged slow and questioning, shifting until it was gliding sensually along the cleft of his ass. Akira already knew the answer to the question Joker posed.  
  
    He pressed his sweaty forehead to the pole, not caring in this moment about germs or anything else except that it was cool against his feverish skin. The nod he gave against the blessedly chilled metal was frenzied and lost. Yes.  
  
    It was what Joker had been waiting for it, it would seem. The next moment, he felt unseen thumbs gently spread him before the same bluntwethot _yes_ pushed slowly inside of him. Akira expected pain or discomfort. It was logical. It was the _reality_ of sex, he told himself.  
  
    But this was not reality. Or it was something else. Reality tilted on its side, perhaps.  
  
    Instead of pain, it felt amazing. Akira had to rush a hand up to cover his mouth before an obscene sob threatened to crawl its way past his lips. He felt filled and there was an ache that he could only compare to the sensation of a particularly good stretch after sleep, but deeper. And it kept going, kept filling him further and more intensely until finally all movement seemed to have stopped.  
  
    Sweat dripped down the side of his face as he trembled there in that endless moment. He felt like he could not move. It was more than just his hand stuck to the pole. It was like he couldn't escape the heat at his back, the thundering pulse of someone else inside of him, or the sensation of his own hand being batted away so leather could cover his lips once again.  
  
    Joker moved.  
  
    Akira stifled the loudest moan of his life into a choked, desperate breath that alerted no one. The monumental effort to minimize his reactions made everything all the more desperate. The searing pull and drag of Joker easing slowly backwards felt like it was dragging his soul with it. He jerked his free hand back to touch the thief's thigh and frustration almost strangled him when he found nothing but air in his grasp.  
  
    A garbled expletive was muffled by an invisible palm, becoming more unbridled at the sensation of his other hand snaking around his hip and between his legs. Joker wrapped his long fingers around his cock at the same time he thrust back inside of him. The movement shoved him up against the pole like a violent ocean wave against a cliffside. Akira felt helpless to it, and for some reason, that made his stomach burn all the hotter.  
  
    In his mind, he could imagine what an onlooker might see. The image of him with his hips angled back and his spine bowed while he was jerked and driven against the pole by an unseen lover. All with his clothes on no less. Embarrassment mixed with pure excited arousal filled him to the brim at the very thought.  
  
    He begged internally for more, squirming against both his captor and the unrelenting metal. It felt like he was pretending that he could possibly get away. As if he wanted to.  
  
    The scrape of teeth on his ear made Akira jolt and jerk his hips back. His lips fell open around a gasp, and the sensation of leather clad fingers rushing greedily into the hot cavern of his mouth was enough Akira's eyes fluttered shut.  
  
    The biting, almost chemical taste of leather on his tongue and the meaty give of it beneath his teeth sent pleasure spiraling through his body. Joker seemed to sense that too, snapping his hips forward with silent force.  
  
    Pleasure like he had never experienced before flooded him. Akira's fingers scrabbled uselessly along the pole, looking for something to hold on to while the lust kept mounting. He couldn't move, couldn't escape it. He felt filled, held in place, and forced to do nothing more than _feel_ the lust tearing his insides to shreds of desperate need.  
  
    The hand around his cock kept moving in time with his erratic pulse. Akira imagined that if he could see it, his fist would be a blur of red. He gave him more and more, filling the train car with the unheard, obscene sound of it.  
  
    Akira felt close to madness. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes between his stations, but it felt like he'd been here at Joker's mercy for a small eternity. His skin felt too tight and too hot, sweltering him and his frenetic heart like a cage. He felt like he would burst, break apart, explode out into a million pieces.  
  
    Joker knew. Joker felt it too. Akira looked up in a daze, eyes locking on to the drawn heart that was bleeding with condensation on the window. He blinked, and the heart was gone. In its place was a single word.  
  
_NOW._  
  
    It was like the permission he hadn't even realized he was waiting on. Orgasm swarmed up within him like a storm. He felt pinned against the pole as rushing wave after wave crashed into him again and again. The harder he clung to the pole, the more it felt like Joker was shoving him into it. His hand still pulled along his cock almost sweetly now, letting the metal of the pole brush along the blazingly hot and delicate skin.  
  
    His heartbeat slowed by lurching bounds that rattled his bones until at last he felt like he could breathe again. He still felt hot, but a chill was also starting to flirt at his sweat drenched skin. It was made all the worse when the heat disappeared from his back, along with the devastating sensation of Joker's cock sliding free of his body.  
  
    The feeling left behind was an emptiness so profound, he felt it in his chest as well as between his legs. His knees buckled beneath him, threatening to send him to the floor, but he kept his grip on the pole. It was only him adjusting his hold that let him know that he was no longer stuck to it. He was free.  
  
    Overhead, the train car's lights flickered ominously. It was strange enough Akira blinked stupidly before he looked around. The window no longer held any sign of fog or fingerpainting. His skin was not dappled with sweat and the metal was not slick with it beneath his palm.  
  
    The book was still on the floor though, Joker card and all. Akira knelt slowly to pick it up, groaning aloud before he could stop himself, because he felt the truth of what had happened in the twinge that blossomed. The emptiness and ache were definitely still there. Akira straightened back up with a heave of a sigh, startling a bit when he felt ghostly lips brush along his neck.  
  
    He picked up the Joker card, intent to mark his place with it, when he noticed black on it. He turned it over to see ink emblazoned along the red patterned back in the shape of a heart like a bizarre sort of valentine.  
  
    In the book, the end of a sentence was underlined in the same black ink.  
  
    _...ask yourself, 'Did this bring you joy?'._

 


End file.
